


The Road

by marxychick1



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Romance, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:02:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marxychick1/pseuds/marxychick1
Summary: Arcade gets asked to rally some of his fellow Followers and finds something unexpected





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt at writing fan fiction. I really haven't written anything since I was in school, which we will just say was a long time ago. I just hope this doesn't totally suck. I appreciate anyone taking the time to read it.
> 
> *edit* I changed the way chapters were arranged. I had a lot of short chapters, now I have a few long ones.
> 
> Also, added some tags.
> 
> Please, I am learning. If you have any comments I do appreciate them.
> 
> When I wrote this, I wasn't sure I was going to share it with anyone and I've gotten 50 hits. I'm beyond pleased and hope everyone has enjoyed. And I appreciate the kudos I've gotten.

Arcade Gannon was in a better mood than usual as his tall frame ducked out of the tent flap into the Wasteland sunshine. The light bounced off of the white adobe walls of the Old Mormon Fort into his bespectacled green eyes, causing him to wince. He shielded them with the long fingers of his left hand as he peered out into the courtyard to summon his next patient. Even in the burning sun, it was better than being cooped up in the dreary research tent analyzing mesquite pods.  
  
“Medicus autem videbo vos,” he called out, satisfactorily smirking to himself. He knew none of the Freeside locals or NCR troops lined up for his services would understand his turn of phrase, but he did like to use his Latin whenever he could.

 

Next in line was a younger NCR recruit, maybe 21 years old. Still fresh faced. Probably hadn't seen much combat, judging by his clean fatigues and innocence of a puppy dog, Gannon judged silently. He sized him up with greedy eyes. Maybe weighed 155 lbs. soaking wet. About 5'7”. The soldier seemed dwarfed in comparison to the 6'5” muscular build of the doctor.  
  
“Doc, you gotta help me. I took some stuff over at Gomorrah. I don't know what it was, but I'm sure I'm dyin',” the soldier explained, terrified.  
  
“Ah, I see. Please, come into the tent and we'll see what we can figure out,” putting on his best reassuring tone, pushing up his thick rimmed glasses and running a hand through his golden wavy hair. In his mind, he already knew the drill. Kid gets blinded by the sights and sounds of The Strip, scores some dodgy Jet in an attempt to keep up with the p _anem et circenses_ and is sure it's the end. In reality, little more than some clean water and rest was called for. But he kept a straight face and treated all of the young man's concerns stoically. Not only to show Julie Farkas, the leader of the Followers of the Apocalypse chapter at which he was stationed, that he had some bedside manner, but because the nearly anonymous, lonely boys from the New California Republic were usually very grateful for his work, and had special ways of showing that gratitude. To be honest, he preferred the company of older men, but any port in a storm.  
  
It was going to be a good day, he just had a feeling.

 

***  
  
“Surely you can't be serious.” Arcade's wit failed him, and his mouth sat slightly agape.  
  
“I am serious, and don't call me Shirley,” Julie Farkas joked, her face donning a smile that betrayed her punk hairstyle. “You know we're understaffed, Arcade. That's why I had to pull you off of your research. I know you have an aversion to people. But if we get some extra hands on deck, we can get you back to the drawing board.”  
  
“Is there not a mercenary we can send to do this?” He was grasping at straws.  
  
“With the increased activity thanks to the Courier we keep hearing of and running into, we don't have room in the budget,” she conceded.  
  
“Well, then maybe ask the Courier to do it?”  
  
He'd met the infamous Courier. Had even been asked to join him as some kind of field medic. There was open flirtation between them, both spoken and silent. Mutual. Undressing one another with their eyes. It could have been much more, but no matter how much they both desired it, Arcade knew it was a dangerous game to play. The Courier's insistence on playing all sides against the middle, including dabbling with the gentleman across the river, made him politely decline any and all offers of work and play. He had no intention of tangling with Ceaser's Legion or it's network of murders and slavers.  
  
“They seem otherwise entangled at this point.” The leader of the Mojave Followers was running out of ways to gently say no.  
  
“When you called me in here, I was expecting a promotion to surgery, Julie,” Arcade protested. “My education, my hands, are wasted fiddling with flora all day!”  
  
“Your research is important,” she retorted. “Pre-war supplies won't hold out forever. And you don't have to deal with the general public in your research capacity.”  
  
“Surgeons don't have to deal with the general public either,” he huffed. “My charms are best suited to those under general anesthesia anyway.” His self-deprecation always came to the forefront when he was running out of arguments.  
  
“If you do what I'm asking, go out and round up at least a few of the local Followers to take on some of the workload, we can see what we can do about getting a scalpel in your hands,” she offered as somewhat of a truce.  
  
“Yeah, leave the Fort, alone, to go on what at best is a wild goose chase and at worst is a suicide mission?” Arcade crossed his arms, his lips a thin line. “That's a great idea. Maybe I can even preform my own post-mortem? That's my best chance at surgery at this point.”  
  
“You act as if you don't have a plasma defender at the hip, Arc,” she pointed out. The nickname grated his already shot nerves, but he glossed over it.  
  
“But I sunburn so easily,” his protruding lip and downturned corners of his eyes looked pitiful in mock pleading style.  
  
“Please?” she smiled sweetly. It wasn't so much of a request as it was an appeal. Arcade thought it over silently momentarily.  
  
“Ego deditionem,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and blowing a gossamer lock from his forehead. “Where do you want me to go?”  
  
***  
  
Of the places Julie Farkas had requested he visit, Arcade Gannon had a clear idea of where he wanted to go. The safehouse for the Followers of the Apocalypse was west. There he would meet Dr. Luria, another medical doctor. Though he would never admit it to himself, he didn't want the extra competition for the surgery rounds, so he declined. Westside, home to scientist Tom Anderson, a fringe member of the Followers, did not seem inviting. Something about Anderson rubbed him the wrong way. Dr. Usanagi was far too busy with the clinic right outside of Freeside, helping vets with psychological trauma, selling implants for the benefit of the Followers, et cetera. The doctors and guards at the Outpost had been brutally massacred by energy weapons weeks earlier. It sent a cold shiver up Arcade's back. He knew few factions with such a fondness for that tech, none of which he wanted to face ever again. It was still vacant. So that left Ignacio Rivas, a scientist and engineer up at HEILOS One. He was unfamiliar with Dr. Rivas aside from knowing he was contracted out to the NCR, though he had done some reading about HEILOS One. He thought he may like to get a look at the place up close.  
  
With that decided, Arcade geared up for his journey. He packed lots of bottled water and fruit, numerous stimpacks and other various medical supplies. He was hoping to have little need of the latter, but if worse came to worse he was prepared. He donned his typical white lab coat, grey cotton button down shirt, khakis, boots, and his eyeglasses. At the last minute he decided upon a large beige cowboy hat, with a strip of fire gecko leather adoring it. It had been a gift from a paramour who had come through Freeside from the brahmin ranches east of New Vegas on vacation. He thought the hat tacky tourist ephemera, but he kept it nonetheless. In this moment it reminded him of how lonely he felt. He'd had plenty of lovers, but they made for poor confidants. Closest thing to a real relationship he'd experienced had been back at University in the NCR. One of his professors. As he placed the hat over his wavy tresses he thought _“At least it'll keep my face from burning.”_ He turned out the lanterns in his tent, gathered his gear, and set off.  
  
***

  
Alone with his thoughts, Arcade Gannon was a dangerous man. Unfortunately that danger was directed at himself- his ego, his psyche, his memories.

  
_If you were a good enough surgeon or had any kind of people skills, you wouldn't be here now. What good is all that acerbic wit and Latin? F_ _rustra es homo!_ __  
  
Should have just stayed back in the Boneyard with Dr. Fry. Sure he was 20 years your senior, your professor, but it was probably the closest shot you had at being with someone. Plus you needed a father figure in your life, didn't you?

 

 _But we couldn't stay in the territories, could we? Because you were born a martyr to an organization that never gave a_ _damnare_ _for you. When will you stop running?_  
  
The questions in his head whirled fast and furious. He didn't have an answer for any of them. He tried listening to Radio New Vegas as a distraction, but the news of impending battle at Hoover Dam just clouded his thoughts more. He clicked off his radio and kept walking.  
  
***  
  
Whomever had said carpe diem had never faced the blazing heat of the Mojave Wasteland. The landscape was desolate, bar a few barrel cacti and honey mesquite trees. They offered no shade in the midday sun. Arcade would get no respite for his mind or body for quite some time. But he made good pace despite the dizzying temperatures and mental onslaught. Close to evening, he hit the 188 Trading Post. There he was surprised to find Ezekiel, a Followers anthropologist.  
  
“It's been too long, Ezekiel,” Arcade beamed when he saw him.  
  
“Likewise, my friend. What brings you away from the confines of the Fort?” the man returned.  
  
Ezekiel was a ruggedly handsome man. His accentuated high cheekbones, beautifully tanned skin, and close-cropped hair always caught the tall blonde doctor's attention. He never entwine himself physically with other Followers or Freeside residents. He always felt like an outsider looking in, and he didn't want to complicate things. But after his trek he could use someone to ease his mind and body. It had been weeks since he'd gotten a “thank you gift” from one of his soldier boys and every molecule of his body craved touch.  
  
They exchanged pleasantries. Ezekiel was actually headed back to the Fort himself. Julie Farkas would be grateful for that. She even lined up a new recruit from the Great Khans to be his assistant.  
  
News was that not long before Arcade had arrived at the 188, some Legion raiding parties had invaded. The NCR troopers stationed there made quick work of them, but it gave Gannon pause. He hadn't even had to unholster his plasma defender. He wanted to keep it that way. Before they parted company, Arcade inquired about HELIOS One and his bounty, Dr. Rivas.  
  
“I've known Ignacio my whole life,” Ezekiel gushed. “We were born in the same tribe, the Ciphers. The Followers took us in when we were kids. We're practically brothers.”  
  
Arcade had a slight twinge of envy. He'd grown up an only child, few peers and mostly much older adults as company. The thought of that bond enticed him.  
  
“Anything I should know about the elusive Dr. Rivas before we meet?” he queried.  
  
“He's very easy to get along with. A real teddy bear,” Ezekiel rubbed his chin as he thought about it more. “He's actually a lot like you, Arc. He busts his ass working. He's straight laced, doesn't subscribe to vices like drinking or smoking. He's kinda... well, boring.”  
  
“No offense taken,”spoke Arcade with narrowed eyes. He'd been insulted, and again called a sobriquet he detested.  
  
“Bring him a box of Fancy Lads,” the other man offered, glancing over his apparent faux pas. “They're his one weakness.”  
  
The two men said their goodbyes. There was no clandestine tryst in the NCR tent nearby. Arcade regretted that, but it was for the best. Before he continued on the rest of his journey, he stepped up the the stall of Samuel, the food merchant at the 188.  
  
“I'll have one of your finest boxes of Fancy Lads snack cakes, si tibi placet. The less smashed up, the better.”  
  
***

 

The remainder of Arcade's journey was relatively uneventful. Even his unquiet mind had been less scathing on this leg. The warmth of the evening gently relented to the coolness of the night. The darkness was was like water to him. He drank it in, bathed in it, let it envelop him. It took the strain off of his eyes. He removed his glasses with adept fingers, rubbed the bridge of his nose and brow arch. He removed his ornamental hat, tying it to his pack for the return journey. Not far off in the distance, he could see the glow of a neon sign- HELIOS One.  
  
His pace quickened. He was eager to finally meet the Grail to his Crusade. That was a mystery his mind had been anxious to unravel- his previously unknown colleague. He wasn't sure why. He'd see a hundred new faces every day at the Fort, all of them a blur. Even his sexual conquests didn't particularly stand out to him. But the anticipation of meeting someone who could be his intelligence equal, a sparring partner, excited him in a way. Plus, if he was as handsome as his “brother” from the tribes, it wouldn't hurt at all.

 

Ezekiel had described Rivas in an unusual way... “ _a lot like you.”_ Gannon was a bit of a rare breed in the New Vegas area. He partook not of gambling, drinking, smoking. He didn't even patronize the prostitutes, though temptation and libido had caused him to ponder the option on particularly desolate nights. He was a vegetarian, on moral grounds, but sometimes when you didn't know where your next meal was coming from you took what was offered, gratefully.  
  
The idea of finding someone like-minded, feeling included, was the most desirable thing he could imagine. He'd never known his father, who was killed when he was too young to remember. He'd been an Enclave soldier. Dying for a cause Arcade deemed unworthy. _What has the Enclave ever given me?_ he thought bitterly. _Daddy issues and a suit of power armor._ They'd have never accepted him anyway, due to the company he preferred to keep in private. He'd been raised by his mother and a ragtag group of Enclave Remnants, on the lam from both the NCR and Brotherhood of Steel who sought to put the previously powerful sect to extinction. His mother died when he was thirteen. At sixteen he'd broken away from the Remnants to join the Followers. Ironically, his “family” left the NCR and settled in the Mojave. He'd been in contact with them all as frequently as he could, made easier by his stationing at The Old Mormon Fort.  
  
All of those thoughts would have to be put on the back burner, as he was greeted by Lt. Haggerty at the entrance to HELIOS One.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“This is a restricted area. State your business,” the Lieutenant called out to Arcade Gannon before he got too close to the building.  
  
Arcade raised his arms at the elbows to show his empty hands. “Et veniet in pace.I come in peace. Take me to your leader,” he joked. The NCR soldier was not amused.  
  
“State your business,” she repeated.  
  
“One of your scientists is a fellow Follower of the Apocalypse. Ignacio Rivas,” he declared.  
  
“Ordinarily that wouldn't be enough to get you in,” she softened. “But we recently had a breakthrough with power output and we can be a little more lenient. Go on in. Rivas should be in back.”  
  
Arcade lowered his arms and walked right in the front door. There were NCR soldiers all over the place, but most taking a lax position on security. He was able to traverse the hallways with little interruption. He knew quite a bit about Poseidon Energy and their SEMELE project. Much of that technology was used in Enclave weaponry. He knew little about HELIOS One but was hoping to learn while he was there. Before long he reached a door at the back of the building. _This must be the place,_ Arcade thought. He cleared his throat, smoothed back his hat-flattened hair, and gently knocked.  
  
A serious looking man in a white lab coat answered the door. His hair looked ruffled, as if he'd been working too hard to notice. He was shorter than Arcade, but most everyone was. The brown eyes beneath his thick brows seemed to recognize Gannon's Followers lab coat, and his features relaxed a bit.  
  
“Dr. Rivas, I presume?” Arcade gave a sly smile.  
  
“Yes, and I feel thankful that I am here to welcome you. Though I must say I'm surprised to see another Follower of the Apocalypse here.” The door opened wider. “And you are?”  
  
“Dr. Arcade Gannon. I've been sent by Julie Farkas at the Old Mormon Fort to rally any available personnel. It's situation critical out that way,” Arcade explained.   
  
The new acquaintance opened the door fully, clasping Arcade's hand warmly, leading him into the room. “Please, come in. We have much to discuss.”  
  
“It's so nice to see such a friendly face here. Until very recently they had me cooped up with some idiot chem addict. Once the Courier came through here and got the power output to reasonable levels, they transferred him over to the Dam. So I've been here by myself since. Not sure what's made me crazier, my company or lack thereof.” It was only then Ignacio realized he was still holding the hand of the comely doctor. Arcade wrapped his long fingers around the inviting tanned skin. He felt the callouses and sinews of hard work. How funny it was the engineer worked in a power plant, as he felt sheer electricity from his touch. Arcade pondered if more touching would lead to more sparks. Rivas' brown skin blushed.  
  
“Forgive me,” he flustered, gently releasing his grip.  
  
“Not at all. It's nice to experience a warm greeting for a change,” Arcade replied abashedly. His pale skin emblazoned.  
  
“I hope your travels were safe.” His eyes rested upon Arcade's plasma defender.  
  
“Yes, thank you. I'm hardly a whirlwind of death when left to my own devices” he replied.  
  
“So, please, tell me about yourself?” Ignacio perked.  
  
“You must be hard up for company if you want to hear any of that,” Arcade deflected.  
  
“Ah, sheltering yourself from questions, like your name suggests. Arcade- a sheltered passage between arches. I'm asking you because I'm interested. Don't put yourself down,” Ignacio smiled.  
  
Arcade was impressed with Ignacio's etymology of his name. Depending on derivation, Ignacio meant “unknown” or “fire.” Both possibilities excited Arcade. He'd love to explore either aspect of Ignacio for sure.   
  
“Oh, all right. I'm thirty-ish. Well, late thirties. I was born... west of here. I was an only child and spent most of my time with my mother. My father died when I was young and I never got over it. Oh... and I like medicine and reading books about failed Pre-War socioeconomic policies. I'm boring,”Arcade thought surely that would kill the mood.   
  
“That's not boring at all. We have a lot in common. Though my interest is in engineering, not medicine. I was born into a tribe east of here called the Ciphers, so it's in my blood so to speak. I'm in my late thirties as well, though I suspect I'm closer to forty than you. I've also done some reading about the effects of the Industrial Revolution on socioeconomics. Fascinating stuff.” It was amazing how much Ignacio put Arcade at ease.   
  
“Now that we're acquainted, would you like to rest? Or how about a tour?” Ignacio continued. He saw how uncomfortable speaking about himself made Arcade. Even if he didn't understand why, he had no desire to upset his company.  
  
“I was hoping you'd offer a tour,” Arcade's enthusiasm re-ignited. “But first, a gift, for being such a gracious host. A little birdie told me you might like this.”   
  
Ignacio raised an eyebrow. “Should I close my eyes? Get on my knees?”  
  
“No, it's not _that_ kind of gift,” Arcade chuckled nervously. He reached into his pack for the Fancy Lads he had procured earlier at the suggestion of Ezekiel.  
  
Ignacio's mouth fell agape and his eyes widened. He deadpanned, “Take me to bed with you right this second... or maybe after I've had a cake or two.”   
  
They both laughed hardily, though neither seemed to reject the suggestion.  
  
***  
  
The tour of HELIOS One was stimulating. The time of night it was meant they went almost entirely unbothered by the NCR troopers on duty. The two scholars conversed ardently. Arcade eased into his usual loquacious persona, and Ignacio was his equal. There was discussion of concentrated solar power, solar radiation, and the use of molten salts and nitrates for power storage. When conversation dipped, the discussions got more personal.  
  
“So, your tribe hails from Mesa Verde?” Gannon probed. “Have you had much interaction with the Legion?”  
  
“Not much that I remember. I was maybe five when the Followers guided us to the NCR. A Legion Centurion and his troops had killed most if not all of the adult Ciphers in our camp. Including my parents. Had we not fled, we surely would have become slaves,” Ignacio replied stoically.  
  
“I'm so sorry. No child should have to face such obstacles.” It was as much a reflection as it was a reply.  
  
“I have the outlook that everything happens for a reason,” Rivas explained.  
  
“Sometimes I wish I felt the same,” Arcade quipped.  
  
“How do you feel?” Ignacio solicited.  
  
“Jaded,” was the weary response.   
  
By then they had seen the entirety of the main building, which was mostly bunks for the NCR. They had made their way back around to Ignacio's lab, and to a back outer door.  
  
“Are you ready to see the cool stuff?” Ignacio's excitement was contagious.  
  
“I thought I was seeing the cool stuff. You haven't been holding out on me, have you?” Arcade ribbed.  
  
“Never.” It sounded like a promise. With it, they made their way out into the solar array yard.  
  
Ignacio gave a history of Poseidon Energy, the company that founded HELIOS One. He noticed Arcade became detached when he talked about the ties between the company and the Enclave.  
  
“I really must be boring you,” Ignacio humbly offered. Arcade noticed the concern on his guide's face.  
  
“No!” he exclaimed, ashamed of himself. “I'm sorry. Your narration is exceptional. You enrapture me. Just trying to keep my thoughts from burrowing out of my skull. I'm weird.” He lightly placed his hand on Ignacio's shoulder. Even under cloak of night, his crimson blush was noticeable.  
  
“Anything you want to get off your chest?” Ignacio did not want to cross any lines, but his concern was genuine. Arcade found it both a turn on and incredibly endearing.  
  
Arcade looked Ignacio in the eyes and shook his head. “I know I'm not always the most serious guy around, but that means a lot to me. Thanks.”  
  
“One more stop. The tower. Are you up for it?” Ignacio questioned with his ever-present concern. He firmly cuffed the wrist of the hand wresting upon his shoulder, reassuringly.  
  
“Indeed. I'll try to be a better audience,” Arcade smiled.  
  
***  
  
Ignacio outlined how The Courier had cleared the tower of the security activated by the Brotherhood of Steel. That system had been both a blessing and a curse. It had kept both the Brotherhood and the NCR away from the pre-war weapon contained within, but it had also kept the power station from supplying areas that needed it, Freeside included. The Courier had fixed all of that. The ARCHIMEDES laser had been disabled, and the power had been distributed to the areas that needed it most. The men discussed it intricately and passionately.

Eventually they made their way to the top of the tower. A vast canvas of stars shone overhead. Arcade Gannon was not one who was often speechless, but words failed him. It wasn't just the stars unobstructed by light pollution or the technology that left him breathless. It was his consort. He felt magnetically drawn to Ignacio Rivas from the moment he laid eyes on him. He was engaging for far more than his looks, though his looks suited Arcade just fine. He'd embraced Arcade as an ally immediately. He engaged his mind. He was easily affectionate- there had been many a gentle rub on the shoulder, touch on the back, or other gestures that may have been lost on someone less solitary. Physicality with men was routine to him, but it was all touch and zero feeling. The emotion behind it all made Arcade feel something he wasn't sure he'd felt before, and it allured and petrified him.

 

Ignacio finally broke the lull in conversation “I'm not much of an astronomer, and I'm totally non-secular but I enjoy coming up here to decompress a little. It's cliché, but it just reminds me of how small we all are in the grand scheme of things.”  
  
“Oh, I have no trouble at all knowing how insignificant I am,” savaged Arcade, facing out into the endless starry field. “My research at the Fort doesn't matter. Any difference I could possibly make is negligible anyway. I've left no legacy. And I'll never know if my father would have been proud of what I've become.”   
  
Ignacio clasped Arcade's hand, as he had earlier in the evening, but this time with more purpose. The taller doctor turned to face him with a scowl. He glared at his new mate as he had the stars just a moment ago.  
  
“Small does not mean insignificant. One keystroke on a terminal made this entire power plant inoperable. You matter,” Ignacio asserted, taking his other hand and gently rubbing the backs of his fingertips down Arcade's cheek to his jaw, resting them there. “You matter to me. Just your camaraderie in our short time together has really awakened something...”  
  
Arcade hadn't felt himself leaning in as Ignacio spoke, hadn't felt the scowl leave his face, hadn't felt his eyes lid heavily. What he did feel was the sweetness of the other man's breath on his, the prickle of his 5 o'clock shadow, the rush of blood to his lips, the fingers that had been gently at his jaw now gingerly gripping his hair at the back of his head. He felt his own hands, barely under his control, clutch the hips beneath his counterpart's lab coat. His parted lips gave way to his tongue, which probed Ignacio's own, in a kind of waltz that required no music. That electricity, that fire Arcade wondered if he would ever experience rushed over him. Neither was sure who had pulled away first, but blissfully lungs took in air and eyes opened to gaze upon one another again.  
  
“I've never felt more like I belong than I do with you,” Arcade said earnestly. After a meaningful silence, knowing they had an early morning ahead of them, they returned to the office Ignacio inhabited in the main building.  
  
***  
  
“There's an extra bed that belonged to my former 'boss.' It's yours for the night,” Ignacio helpfully pointed out the mattress in the larger part of the L-shaped room. Arcade eyed it with disdain.  
  
“I suppose it would be an educational experiment to see what got to me first- a rusty chem needle full of tainted blood, any number of venereal diseases from the semen stains I see, or some type of parasite I couldn't scrub away with Abraxo,” Arcade mused.  
  
“Or you could bunk up with me,” Ignacio suggestively retorted.  
  
“I'll take what's behind door number two,” Arcade mocked relent. “But only because the other mattress looks like it will crawl off on it's own. Not because I want to spoon with a brilliant and beautiful doctor. By the way, I like being big spoon.”

  
Though the mattress was small and bare, it was arguable that neither man occupying it had ever felt more comfortable. Each got their turn at being big spoon as they became more familiar with one anothers' bodies. Hands frisking for just the right pressure in the right places to please one another- measured grip on throats, teasing pinches of nipples, fingertips digging into hips, nails scratching down backs. Lips meeting then venturing down to chins, along tight jawlines, relenting to gentle nibbles on ear lobes, hungrier mouths on collar bones.   
  
Arcade felt like a teenager again, who spent his afternoons making out with the boy he was supposed to be tutoring in chemistry. This was that same feeling of discovery, almost innocent in nature. If either man was in a hurry to move on to heavier activities their motives didn't betray them. This surprised Arcade. He'd been inside men bent over his desk, face first in gourd pollen and research notes, without knowing anything but their last name. Here he was with someone he felt a real connection to, and he was shy to put his honed hands below the belt.  
  
“I... I think maybe...” Ignacio hoarsely stuttered. “I think we should get some rest.” Just finishing the sentence felt like an accomplishment of great magnitude.  
  
“Are you always the voice of reason?” Arcade gently protested.  
  
“Yes. Yes I am.” Ignacio's lips made their way back to Arcade's. His kiss was firm, his hands flat against the front of Arcade's shoulders. There was a finality to it that Arcade dare not challenge.  
  
“Well then, night-night. Sleep tight. Don't let the rad-roaches bite,” Arcade said sleepily.  
  
“Goodnight, 'Cade,” Ignacio gently whispered. Nobody but Arcade's mother had ever called him by that pet name. Everyone always assumed he'd go by Arc. The sound of it on his lover's lips was the last thing he heard before drifting off peacefully.  
  
***  
  
The two scientists casually set off around mid-morning, having re-stocked their supplies and indulged in a nutritious breakfast of Fancy Lads.  
  
“Before we head to Freeside, I was hoping to make a slight detour,” Ignacio broached. “Not far from here there's a small wind farm. Some of the equipment there may be useful back at the Fort.”  
  
“Sure. Julie will be happy that you're already helping out,” Arcade replied.  
  
“It's just southeast of here. Let's go.” Ignacio made a grand gesture of linking arms with Arcade, like travelers did in old road movie holotapes. They strolled leisurely, and it wasn't long at all before the dilapidated windmills and small shack came into view.  
  
“I'm thinking I can salvage some parts to craft a useable if not crude turbine,” Ignacio postulated. He seemed thrilled at the idea. Arcade fed off of his excitement.   
  
Arcade couldn't remember if he'd ever felt this content. Instead of his mind racing with dread and despondence, it was occupied with thoughts of his companion and their possibilities. He felt like his body was humming. It was then he zeroed in and realized the butterflies in his stomach were actually cazadores hovering nearby. He froze and put a possessive, protective hand on Ignacio's chest. For the first time on his journey, he withdrew the plasma defender from it's assignment on his hip.  
  
“Here we go...” he growled, almost as if to psych himself up for the impending skirmish.   
  
There were four targets. He fired off four blazing plasma shots. He successfully crippled the wings of three of the imposing predators. The fourth shot wasn't off by much, but enough to strike the antennae instead of the wings, driving the creature into a frenzy.   
  
“Run!” Arcade kept his eyes on the threat but addressed Ignacio.  
  
“I'm not just going to leave you!” Ignacio protested.  
  
“RUN!” he insisted emphatically. It was the last thing he remembered before the world went black.  
  
***  
  
When he awakened, Arcade Gannon struggled to focus. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out. There was a dull ache in his left shoulder. He groaned as he reached across his shirtless chest with his right arm to probe the pain with his digits. The wound the cazadore stinger had made was already starting to heal, thanks to a stimpack that was still attached. He was lying on an improvised bed of 2 tables pushed together in a dark room.  
  
  
“You talk in your sleep, you know,” Ignacio's gentle voice shattered the silence.  
  
“Am I as engaging and witty as I am when conscious?” Arcade croaked with a dry throat and parched lips. He labored to sit up.  
  
“Well, I learned your middle name is Israel. And that you swear in Latin.” The relief Ignacio displayed upon Arcade's awakening suddenly turned serious. His brow furrowed. “And that you're from the Enclave.”  
  
The sting Arcade felt from the statement was worse than any cazadore or radscorpion could inflict. The room began to spin. He laid back down and stared blankly upwards, willing the ceiling, the sky, to collapse in on him. He struggled to control his breathing, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him. He said nothing. The silence was endless and deafening.  
  
“Ok, wait a second. Let me make something clear- I am not 'from the Enclave.' My father served the Enclave. I wasn't even born until the Enclave was collapsing,” Arcade explained.  
  
“You could have told me,” Rivas crossed his arms, his eyes daggers. He sounded as wounded as Arcade felt. “Or was everything you said last night in an attempt to have sex?”  
  
“I've never been able to tell anyone,” Gannon weakly offered. “That's not an excuse. That's been my reality for 35 years. I meant what I said last night. I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you. I would pull down the sun for you. So I suppose sharing ancient buried secrets shouldn't be so difficult.”  
  
Ignacio softened, slouching a bit. “This is all new for me, too. But I need to know that you trust me. And I have to be able to trust you.”  
  
Arcade reached his right arm out to the man at his side. Ignacio accepted the offering, clasping his hand, tracing invisible spirals with his fingertips in his palm.  
  
“Do you have any more Earth-shattering revelations for me?” Ignacio cautiously questioned.  
  
“I am a vegetarian,” Arcade quipped.  
  
“Whoa. Being a fugitive born into a fascist paramilitary organization I can handle, but I'm not so sure I can get on board with that level of self-righteousness,” Ignacio straight-faced.  
  
***  
  
Ignacio Rivas pieced together the time Arcade Gannon was missing. The mutated insect in it's frenzy had lanced Arcade through his left shoulder with it's venomous stinger. The barb had broken off in his flesh, and he was unconscious before hitting the ground. Since the monster had no further defenses, Ignacio had grabbed the plasma defender and finished it off, along with the others Arcade had crippled. He then somehow dragged the younger, larger doctor to the safety of the shack at the wind farm. He removed the stinger, cleaned the wound with a bottle of vodka he found there, applied the stimpack, and monitored the comatose man for fever and dehydration. That was 8 hours ago.  
  
“Impressive,” Arcade mused, now fully awake and operating under his own power. “For someone who's doctorate isn't in medicine, you did a perfectly serviceable job. Does my new scar make me look roguish?”  
  
“Very,” came the seductive reply from the man sitting on the workbench.   
  
Arcade rose from the table to stand face to face with Ignacio. He placed a placid hand on each of his cheeks and planted a light kiss on his lips.  
  
“Thank you for not running. You saved my life,” Arcade spoke with sincerity.   
  
He moved closer, between the seated man's knees. He moved his hands down to the man's hips, his grip more vigorous. He kissed him again, this time vehemently. His tongue strong and dominant, exploring his lover's mouth deeply. Ignacio surrendered fully.  
  
“I'd have done it even without receiving this kind of gratitude,” he answered once his lips were free.  
  
“You haven't seen anything yet,” Arcade demurred.   
  
Without breaking contact, he slid his hands to the front of Ignacio's trousers, over his buttoned lab coat. His proficient physician's fingers applied pressure to the cock concealed by the cloth. He rubbed, creating friction and heat. Ignacio closed his eyes and tilted his head back, his breathing heavy. One hand continued it's it's savvy while the other moved to unbutton and unzip the barrier between them. Arcade laid him bare, fully erect and screaming for attention. This was the first time Arcade had seen his suitor's full glory, and he relished the moment. He took it in both hands and acquainted himself with every atom of it.  
  
“You won't stop me this time, will you?” It was both a question and a demand from an eager Arcade. Ignacio shook his head.  
  
“What kind of gentleman would I have been if I had fucked you on the first date?” Ignacio remarked, swallowing hard.  
  
“A satiated one,” Arcade purred.   
  
He took a step back and got on his knees. He removed his ever-present glasses, placing them next to his conquest. His height, usually an inconvenience, put him at just the right trajectory. He moistened his lips and took Ignacio's length into his mouth. Though all of their fooling around the previous night had been carefully dosed, Arcade proceeded with abandon. He buried his face all the way to the base of Rivas's cock, ignoring any gag reflex he may have had. Ignacio moaned while cradling the back of Arcade's head with interlocked fingers. When he had to come up for air, he raised his head slowly, dragging the tip of his tongue all the way to the head of Ignacio's dick. This motion repeated until his throat ached, then he settled into a more regular rhythm. He listened for signals that his performance was being enjoyed- a ragged breath, a stifled grunt, any number of whispered utterances. Each a positive reinforcement that made Arcade's own cock harder and desperate for release. Instead of giving into the temptation of touching himself, Arcade put his hands to tickling and teasing the doctor's balls. Ignacio's hips had fallen into the same hypnotic beat his lover had taken.

 

“'Cade, please stop. I'm close. Let me...,” the object of his affection trailed off.   
  
Arcade didn't want to stop. He was in love with the taste and feeling of the tawny flesh in his mouth. But he would he would acquiesce to anything that magical voice saying his name suggested. On his last upstroke he swirled his tongue around the slit, swallowing all the fluid gathering there. He remained on his knees, but sat back on his haunches. He crossed his wrists and laid his hands out in front of him as if bound, eagerly searching Ignacio's eyes for a direction or command.  
  
The darker skinned man fully shed his white overcoat. With trembling fingers he tried to unbutton his collared shirt. Arcade rose to his feet, and forcefully grabbed Ignacio's wrists.  
  
“Allow me,” Again the query may as well have been an order.   
  
With a single nod the physician's fingers deliberately and teasingly exposed the engineer's chest and stomach. Arcade imbibed like his body was wine of the finest vintage. In comparison to his own toned physique, Ignacio was softer and curvier. Muscles were less defined, but he could still feel them responding to his every touch. And he was addicted to that golden brown skin. With shirt now shed, Ignacio kicked off his loafers, pulled off his socks, and stood to fully drop trow. Arcade, already sans Followers attire and shirt, unbuckled his own belt. With a flick of the wrist, he'd unwound it from every loop in his pants, like a whip in an old holotape gladiator movie. Unbuttoning and unzipping, his pants and underthings quickly bunched at the boots still on his feet. He could feel the deep brown eyes of his counterpart drinking him in, just as he had done. His eyes finally rested on Arcade's neglected cock, which was engorged almost to the point of pain, and dripping.  
  
“I'd like for you to bend over the table, please,” Ignacio's gentle voice was barely above a whisper.  
  
“I'd like for you to make me,” Arcade's huskiest voice challenged. When it came to sex, as with most things, Arcade was usually the domineering one, but he was not averse to playing rough and assuming the submissive role.   
  
The smaller man moved swiftly, placing a knee between Arcade's. Because of the clothing at his feet, it made standing awkward. Ignacio wrapped his arms around Arcade's waist to steady him, and the men were now body to body, shaft to shaft. Just the feel of his partner's skin on his made every hair on Arcade's body stand on end. Then Ignacio slowly started grinding his hips against him. The lubrication his pre-come provided allowed their skin to slide with little resistance. Arcade was in ecstasy, not bothering to stifle his moans or his Latin profanity. He leaned in to kiss Ignacio. Instead of yielding, Ignacio caught his bottom lip with his teeth and bit hard enough to draw blood. He didn't release his bite right away, but when he did he delicately trailed his tongue along the fresh wound. Arcade was shocked, and drew a hand up to his face, but Ignacio grabbed his wrist boldly and wrestled it down to his side.  
  
“I'd like for you to bend over the table now.” It was the same whisper. There was no 'please' this time. When his newly inspirited partner released his grip and gave him room to awkwardly turn around, Arcade did as he was told.  
  
His height again helped him in positioning. As his torso laid prone against the table his hips had enough clearance that he wouldn't be getting splinters in his most private of places. He could hear Ignacio open the bottle of lubricant he'd probably found in his pack while playing nursemaid earlier. After a few silent seconds, he felt a reassuring hand on the small of his back, and a single digit flirting with entering him. Slowly, purposefully it did. Arcade felt himself relaxing. A second finger. He could no longer focus on anything and let the pleasure take control. A third. Sliding in and out, expertly stretching him.

 

He felt a sudden vacancy. Again, there was that pause. The calm before the storm as it were. The hand on his back slowly began to traipse along his spine, the muscles in his shoulders, taking care with the through and through wound the cazadore encounter had caused. He again felt the flirtation of skin at his ass, then Ignacio filled him. Arcade cried out in euphoria, pushing back on his lover with all his might. He had never wanted anything so much. They soon found each other's pattern. Moans melted into each other. They breathed laboriously, but as one. Their skin clapped together, and Arcade's prick slapped against his leg. Ignacio took it in his hand and began to stroke in rhythm. The pace quickened. It wasn't long before Arcade let the delirium of release take him. The tightening of his body as he came took Ignacio to the same place. The man behind him fell into his back and began to softly kiss his neck. The warmth of him blanketed Arcade's sweat-chilled body. They laid there for what may have been minutes or hours before Ignacio pulled out of him to re-dress.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
Both men took their time putting themselves back together. They cleaned up as best they could with bottled water, dressed slowly. Arcade's shirt and lab coat were damaged with blood and holes, but he hadn't packed spares. There was a quiet, but not an uneasy one. It was comfortable. They exchanged loving glances, subdued touches, total peace.  
  
“It's about 9. If we left now, we could camp at the service station down the road before midnight,” Arcade Gannon thought aloud. “Or we can stay here for the night and try again tomorrow?”  
  
“Or we could live here together forever where nobody would ever find us, and just repeat today over and over. Minus you almost dying, of course,” Ignacio Rivas counter-offered.  
  
“That's tempting, but I think myself a little too high maintenance to live in a shack without a bed. Or a lavatory,” Arcade pointed out. “But until tomorrow there's nowhere else I'd rather be. And no one else I want to be with.” Arcade kissed Ignacio, only then remembering the injury to his lip. He winced slightly.

  
“I'm so sorry. I got carried away,” Ignacio apologized. “Please forgive me.”  
  
“There's nothing to be sorry for. It's what I asked you to do. But if you insist, you can make it up to me another time,” Arcade raised an eyebrow seductively. Ignacio's face remained serious.  
  
“I can't tolerate the thought of hurting you,” he said genuinely.  
  
“Ignacio, Ama me usque dum dolet. Si dolet signum bonum est. In fact, it's just a reminder of what a good time we had... I had. We... I... I don't mean to be presumptuous. I hope you enjoyed yourself as well,” Arcade stumbled through the words, blushing.  
  
“Best time ever,” he smiled.  
  
”I'll figure out this whole 'relationship' thing. How each other tick,” Arcade said determinedly. “Until then, don't give up on me.”  
  
“Can we keep practicing until I find the right way to bite you?” Rivas asked naughtily.  
  
“Deal,” Gannon agreed.  
  


The remainder of the evening was spent talking, cuddling, and enjoying a meal of the last Fancy Lads and some barrel cactus fruit. Both Arcade and Ignacio slept amazingly well for there being not so much as a makeshift bed in the shack. Arcade slept propped up against a wall, with Ignacio laying his head on his lover's lap. They woke early to ready themselves for the road ahead. As they geared up, Arcade pondered the gauche 10-gallon hat with the gaudy leather band.  
  
“I mean, it's not my taste, but if you like it go for it,” Ignacio chimed in. “You would look good in anything.”  
  
“Fashion isn't what I'm considering,” came the reply. “It's a gift from a former suitor. I don't know if I'd feel right wearing it in your presence.”  
  
“I see. Is it important to you?” Ignacio picked his brain.  
  
“No, just a trinket,” Arcade offered flatly, shaking his head.  
  
“Was the man who gave it to you important to you?”  
  
“No, a passer-by.”  
  
“Do you have extremely fair skin and agonize in the sun?”  
  
“Extremely.”  
  
“Wear the damned hat.”  
  
“You won't be upset?”  
  
“It's a hat.”  
  
“Always the voice of reason. I adore you.”  
  
“It's my gift. I love you, too.”  
  
Shortly after sunrise, they commenced on their journey.  
  
***  
  
Passage toward Freeside was relatively uneventful for Arcade Gannon and Ignacio Rivas. Both men kept their guard up thanks to yesterday's cazadore attack. It seemed so long ago. Arcade's shoulder barely even hurt anymore, even helping to bear the weight of his pack. Ignacio had been able to scavenge some parts that could help the Fort, and Arcade helped to carry the tech.   
  
They enjoyed each other's company. Enjoyed quizzing each other about their pasts. Arcade opened up a lot about Navarro, his hometown, and his exile. It was a completely new feeling to be able to tell someone that wasn't Daisy, his surrogate mom from the Remnants. It was like Ignacio had known him forever. Ignacio treasured Arcade's trust, and shared tidbits about his life on the other side of the Colorado River and his upbringing in the NCR. They also talked about academic subjects, literature, music, old movie and TV broadcast holotapes. They held hands.  
  
Around noon they arrived at their halfway point- the 188 Trading Post. Arcade thought about his meeting with Ezekiel there only a couple of days ago. His life had changed exponentially. The demons of his past gave way to optimistic trepidation about his future. He'd found belonging. He'd found love. He still wouldn't have minded a roll in the hay in one of the NCR tents, but with only one person in mind.  
  
The men stopped to rest at the trading post. There was little activity there that day. They ordered some food and drinks from Samuel, including some more Fancy Lads.  
  
“Didn't get enough the other day?” he questioned.  
  
“Sir, there is no such thing,” Ignacio claimed.  
  
They enjoyed their lunch with no interruptions. Arcade insisted on getting Ignacio a weapon while they were there. They browsed the wares of a former NCR soldier.  
  
“I'm not a fighter, 'Cade. I'm a pacifist,” he protested.  
  
“Neither am I, but it never hurts to be pragmatic,” the doctor answered sternly. “And you handled my plasma defender just fine.”  
  
“Is that a euphemism?” Ignacio joked.  
  
“Ha! Stop trying to deflect and pick your instrument of death,” Arcade chided.  
  
In the end, Ignacio selected a 9mm pistol. He'd have taken the bb gun if Arcade hadn't insisted on something with a little more firepower. Placated, they readied to take the last leg of their trip. The men explored the vendors below the overpass to see if there were any necessary supplies. A flag caught Arcade's attention. At first he thought it might be an Enclave flag, which shook him to his core. As he got a closer look he found it was a pre-war flag, and there was a child sitting under it. On the kid's head was some sort of strange gear.  
  
“Hello there,” Arcade waved. “Are you here all by yourself?”  
  
“I don't have a mama or papa anymore. I see them sometimes when I take off my medicine, but they can't stay. I'm pretty used to being on my own.”  
  
“I see. When you refer to your medicine, you mean the device on your head?” Arcade asked.  
  
“It's headache medicine. It works real good, except I can't think when it's on. Really think, I mean,” The boy nodded to Arcade's question.  
  
“Do you get a lot of headaches? And what kind of thoughts are you talking about?” Arcade was trying to make a diagnosis. He was concerned.  
  
“It hurts any time I take off my medicine. I'm not sure what the thoughts are because I never hear 'em. People say it's real interesting,” the child said.  
  
“Have you ever been to see a doctor? Someone like me, in a long white coat? Like over in the Fort in Freeside,” the physician in him took over.  
  
“No, sir. I stay here and sell my thoughts,” came the reply.  
  
Arcade was horrified. This child had nobody to care for him, lived in squalor, and obviously had some kind of physical or mental condition, or both. He plead with the kid, who called himself 'The Forecaster', to seek treatment, or to come with he and Ignacio back to the Fort. He declined. Having witnessed the conversation silently, Ignacio addressed The Forecaster.  
  
“You'll have to excuse my friend... he has a one track mind when it comes to medicine. Say, could you do some thinking about my friend and I? I'll gladly pay the caps.”  
  
Arcade was confused. Though he was concerned about the child's pain, he wanted to know where Ignacio was going with all of this. He watched and listened as the child removed the unusual device from his skull.  
  
“A new union. Long buried secrets uncovered. Memories lay ahead, but the road to them will not be easily walked. Forecast mostly sunny, isolated challenges.”  
  
“Thank you so much for that. I hope it didn't make your head hurt too badly,” Ignacio told The Forecaster. “Here are your caps. I threw in some extra, since you were thinking about 2 people instead of one. There should be enough here to have Dr. Usanagi at the Clinic near Freeside take a look at you, if you want.” With that, Ignacio took Arcade's hand and led him back onto I-95.  
  
“We'll never find out if he's ok now,” Arcade fumed.  
  
“We can't force him, 'Cade. We can only do our best to help,” Ignacio calmly retorted. “The caps will help him out no matter what, and if he chooses to go the clinic even better.”  
  
“I suppose you're right. But I don't feel good about it,” Arcade conceded.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Arcade Gannon's mind stayed occupied by The Forecaster. Not just because of the empathy he felt for him, but because of his “thought.” Being a man of science, he had no belief in psychic phenomena. The kid's reading did seem to refer to he and Ignacio's pairing though. It all just left him feeling unsettled. Ignacio Rivas did not want to rile him up further, so silently held his hand.  
  
It wasn't far to Freeside. The Grub 'N' Gulp rest stop came into view. It was run by a couple of NCR refugees, Fritz and Lupe. They had been friendly on his journey to HELIOS One, so Arcade thought about stopping briefly on the way back to break the tension. As they approached, even in they dying light Ignacio and Arcade both realized something was not right.  
  
“The brahmin...” Ignacio trailed off. The 3 that had been in the pen were dead. Not for long by the looks of them. Bloatflies hadn't even started to gather. They looked like they'd been hacked apart by blades. Neither Lupe or Fritz were in their usual spots at the counters.  
  
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a Legion Assassin team were upon the doctors. There were four of them: a Decanus, 2 veteran legionaries, and a vexillarius. They'd laid in wait behind the stand Lupe had kept watch over. Arcade drew his plasma defender quickly as he could and started firing off blast after blast. He was able to take out the vexillarius entirely. Both he and Ignacio took cover behind Fritz's former station. Ignacio fumbled through his pocket for his newly-purchased pistol. He leaned around the corner and fired off a shot. It was a hit on the heavily armored Decanus. It didn't do much.  
  
“Fuck! We're not going to be able to hold them off long,” Ignacio snarled. Arcade reloaded his plasma defender and fired off a clip of blind shots. He heard a body fall.  
  
“There's only 2 of them left,” Arcade said hopefully. At that moment, Ignacio glanced to his right. Fritz's lifeless body lay there. His head was barely still attached to his neck. His eyes were open and his mouth posed in a permanent silent scream. The sight of the ferocity paralyzed Ignacio. He didn't hear Arcade bark out his plan of action. It was only once Arcade had broken for the brahmin pen that he saw his partner had not followed. He watched from concealment helplessly as the remaining legionary and the Decanus surrounded Ignacio.  
  
“On your knees, profligate,” the imposing helmeted man ordered. Ignacio didn't respond until the veteran butted him in the ribs with the stock of his rifle. Ignacio weakly dropped his pistol.  
  
“Put your hands in front of you so that you may be bound,” the same voice demanded. Ignacio followed instruction with no argument. The veteran bound Ignacio quickly.  
  
“Degenerate, you wear the costume of a doctor. Are you trained, or are you a filthy pillager?” The Decanus interrogated.  
  
“I'm an engineer, not a medical doctor,” Ignacio whimpered. Tears were streaming from the corners of his eyes.  
  
“A shame. If you had the power of healing, we would have a use for you,” The Decanus coldly stated. The figure began to slowly draw his machete from it's scabbard.  
  
“  
Prohibere ! I'm a physician! A medical doctor,” Arcade came out from his place of hiding. He held his arms aloft in surrender with the plasma defender still in one hand. He slowly made his way to where the other 3 men were crowded. He stopped a few feet from Ignacio's back.  
  
“How noble of you to help your friend,” spat the masked face. “One must truly care for another to put themselves in such a predicament. Perhaps as a lover? Drop your weapon and get on your knees, cretin.”  
  
Arcade did as commanded. The veteran legionary approached Arcade to bind his wrists. Quickly, Arcade pulled the ripper he used for plant samples from his lab coat. Before the legionary knew what had happened his entrails were pouring from his body. His body hit the ground with a sickly thwack. The Decanus, still looming over Ignacio, moved quickly to unsheathe his machete.  
  
All seemed to be moving in slow motion from Arcade's perspective. All he could see was the weapon slowly being raised over the Decanus' head, ready to strike a deadly blow to his beloved. The sound of gunfire snapped him quickly back to reality. Where once had been the hidden face of the lead assassin was now a hole pouring blood like a cascade. Ignacio, in his terror, had somehow managed with his bound hands to re-arm the 9mm pistol and shoot his attacker point blank. He was drenched in the viscera. The Decanus' body fell back. Ignacio collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably. Arcade didn't even stand, crawling forward to embrace Ignacio. He used his ripper to break his binds.  
  
“You're safe. You're ok. I'm here. I love you. It's over,” Arcade whispered repeatedly while stroking Ignacio's hair. He was reassuring himself as much as he was his lover.  
  


***  
  
Not far from what was once the Grub N' Gulp rest stop was the Followers of the Apocalypse outpost. Arcade Gannon carried Ignacio Rivas there like a groom carrying his new bride. Ignacio had shut down. He was still sobbing. He was hyperventilating. Arcade knew the Outpost would have supplies, was currently uninhabited, and would get them out of the open. They reached it quickly and ascended the staircase.  
  
Arcade draped Ignacio onto one of the beds in the facility. He searched the supplies for some Med-X and dosed Ignacio appropriately. His sobs soon ceased, his breathing normalized. He was asleep. It wasn't the optimal situation, Arcade knew, but at least he was calm and not suffering. He then took every strip of clothing off of the other man. It was not salvageable, but the outpost had spares. There was plenty of towels to wipe with, water and soap to clean with, alcohol to sterilize with. Arcade took great care in making sure Ignacio wasn't injured beyond the bruising the rifle butt had caused to his ribs. Physically he seemed ok. Emotionally he knew remained to be seen. Only after he had re-dressed his companion and tucked him safely into bed did Arcade tend to himself. He gave himself the same grooming, threw on some clothes, and laid beside Ignacio. He didn't close his eyes the entire night.  
  
Close to dawn, Ignacio began to stir. Sweat formed on his brow. Before he even opened his eyes, he sat bolt upright, screaming Arcade's name. The man who hadn't left his side all night was already holding his hand.  
  
“Hey, I'm right here,” Arcade spoke gently and slowly. “We're in the Outpost. We're alone. It's all going to be ok.” He shushed Ignacio and laid a kiss on his forehead. Ignacio embraced him, rubbed his hands down his back, like he was confirming he were real. He was breathing hard again, but began to calm once he realized they were safe.  
  
“It... it was just like my p...parents. Wha-what they did to them. I didn't remember. I... remember now,” each word had been a struggle, and there had been tears, but it was important for Ignacio to get them all out. Arcade felt devastated for him and just held him tightly. They stayed that way for a long time.  
  
“Do you feel like eating? Or are you thirsty? Anything I can get you?” Arcade rapid-fired. He wanted to supplant what he had no words for with what he could do. Ignacio just shook his head.  
  
“I'll be fine. Thank you for... cleaning me up. For everything,” Ignacio locked eyes with Arcade.  
  
“I will take every opportunity to see your naked body vos can exsisto certus ,” Arcade smiled. They kissed hard and deep. Ignacio moved to Arcade's neck, sucking softly, licking his Adam's apple. He moved his hands down Arcade's arms to his hips, then to his ass, grabbing firmly.  
  
“You've had a tremendous emotional trauma and spent the night sedated on Med-X. Are you sure this is a good idea?” Arcade asked.  
  
“I need you to make me feel better, 'Cade. I need you inside me,” Ignacio whispered in Arcade's ear, before biting the muscle between his neck and shoulder. He was a quick study in finding the right places.  
  
“I want you to know you can stop at any time. Any time. I don't want you to feel any pressure at all,” Arcade declared emphatically.   
  
Ignacio pulled Arcade's mouth to his again. He began to unbutton the shirt Arcade had selected for him. He quickly discarded it onto the floor. He moved to take off his pants. Arcade quickly dispatched of his own clothing and foraged through his bag for lube, rejoining Ignacio in the bed. He was laying on his back with his knees to his chest. Arcade squeezed some lubricant into his hand, warming it before deftly coating his fingers.  
  
“Alright, Doctor Rivas, I'm going to begin by inserting one of my fingers into your cūlus ,” Arcade said with his best bedside manner.  
  
“Yes, please,” he moaned.  
  
“That's 'yes, please, Doctor,” Arcade corrected.  
  
Arcade did so with precision. As someone familiar with anatomy, he knew all the buttons to push. Ignacio continued moaning softly.  
  
“What I'm going to do now is probe your prostate. No surprises. It'll be an intense sensation,” The Doctor warned. Ignacio nodded and mumbled something resembling consent. When Arcade found the perfect place he knew. Ignacio cried out and thrust into him.  
  
“Now what I'm going to do is insert a second finger,” Arcade's doctor persona continued. He inserted the second finger slowly, opening his lover with care. He curled his fingers and gently stroked the place that made Ignacio go wild. He grabbed his lover's cock with his other hand, propping himself up on his elbow. He began to work his shaft expertly. Each hand was working at it's own clip, and Ignacio began to squirm, not knowing what to expect.  
  
“I'm going to stop touching you now. I'll need my hands to lubricate my shaft. It will take a few moments. I'll tell you when I'm ready,” The Doctor assured. He removed his hand from inside and released his grip on Ignacio's dick. He again added lubricant to his hands, applying friction to warm it. It felt good to touch himself, to get wet, but he knew it would feel so much better to occupy that special space inside his lover.  
  
“I'm fully lubricated. I'm going to enter you with my cock,” The Doctor informed him.  
  
“Oh, Arcade, yes,” Ignacio cried out. Arcade used a stern hand to grab Ignacio's bottom jaw and look him directly in the eyes.  
  
“You will call me Doctor Gannon.” It was not up for negotiation.  
  
“Please fuck me, Doctor Gannon,” he implored.   
  
Arcade entered Ignacio with little difficulty. It was trickier to find those magical places inside without the dexterity of his hands, but Arcade was up to the task. He could feel the head of his cock rubbing on Ignacio's prostate. He started slowly, as if to allow Ignacio to catch his breath. When he found his partner was almost acclimated to his rhythm, he worked it harder, faster. Ignacio was easily keeping pace now, grinding his hips with ferocity.  
  
“I'm close to finishing,” The Doctor spoke with closed eyes and gritted teeth.  
  
“Come inside me, Doctor. I want to feel it,” Ignacio begged. As if an invitation was what he was waiting for, Arcade released. To keep himself from crying out, betraying his cool Doctor exterior, he pressed his face to Ignacio's chest and lightly bit one of his pecs, holding on until he was empty. He withdrew from his partner, allowed him to put his legs down. He was not done yet.  
  
“I'm going to wrap my lips around you and suck you until you feel as good as I do,” The Doctor stated matter-of-factly. He didn't wait for an answer. He took the swollen prick in his mouth and began doing just that. He used little pressure and a very wet mouth to glide up and down. He used a hand to firmly grip Ignacio's balls. Because of the onslaught his prostate had faced, it wasn't long before he came. Arcade continued his motions until Ignacio was fully spent, savoring every drop.  
  
“I have no idea what I've done to deserve you, Doctor Arcade Israel Gannon,” Ignacio said like it was a prayer. Arcade assumed the position of big spoon, one arm wrapped around Ignacio's waist, the other tousling his hair.  
  
“I'm not sure, but it must have been good. I'm totally cognizant of the fact that I don't deserve you, Doctor Ignacio... What is your middle name anyway?” Arcade asked quizzically.  
  
“Joaquin,” Ignacio giggled.  
  
“Te amo Doctor Ignacio Joaquin Rivas,” Arcade declared. “But, please, just call me 'Cade.”

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The East gate to Freeside was merely a couple of hours from the Followers Outpost. Arcade Gannon was determined to make it there today, despite his sleep deprivation. He and Ignacio Rivas packed lightly, leaving behind anything but the bare necessities and their salvaged electrical equipment.  
  
“You never told me why this place is vacant,” Ignacio pointed out as they left.  
  
Arcade didn't want to consider the fact that whomever had killed the previous inhabitants with a barrage of energy weapons- Enclave or Brotherhood- may have been seeking him. “I'll save it for another time.”  
  
The heat of the day was punishing, and Arcade no longer had his garish hat to depend on. The men avoided the main road until well clear of the scene of last night's emergency. As they got closer to Freeside, Arcade began to describe everything to Ignacio in excited detail- the Fort and their co-workers, the Atomic Wrangler casino and it's cast of characters, Mick and Ralph over that their shop. Though he always felt like an outsider, it was domum dulce domum and he missed it.  
  
It was late afternoon when they finally arrived at the large wooden gate of the Old Mormon Fort. The stone shone impressively in the light.  
  
“Are you ready?” Arcade asked nervously.  
  
“For anything as long as I'm with you,” Ignacio calmly replied.  
  
Julie Farkas was in the main courtyard to greet the two weary doctors.  
  
“Welcome, Dr. Rivas! And welcome back, Dr. Gannon,”the lead Follower grinned, happy for their return. “I hope your travels were safe.”  
  
“Thank you,” Ignacio shook her hand. “We got along just fine.”  
  
“Good. It's a bit late in the day and you must be tired. Both of you get some rest. We'll get to work tomorrow. I want Dr. Gannon to be fresh for his surgical rounds,” Julie winked. Arcade smiled brightly. “I am afraid that there is a bit of a shortage of quarters, though. Would you mind sharing a tent?”  
  
The men glanced at each other and neither could contain their laughter.  
  
“I believe that will be a more than pleasing arrangement,” Arcade concluded.

 


End file.
